


(Never) letting go

by Strange_johnlock



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: (sort of), Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Break Up, Breaking Up & Making Up, Developing Relationship, Developing Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, First Time, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, M/M, Making Love, Making Up, Post-Break Up, Reunion Sex, Reunions, Romance, Soldier John Watson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:00:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23653468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strange_johnlock/pseuds/Strange_johnlock
Summary: John didn't think he would ever see Sherlock Holmes again. Now, he gets to hold him.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 37
Kudos: 221





	(Never) letting go

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, Amelia <3

His bag is the last one.

John stands nudged between an elderly couple and a group of middle-aged women and tries not to lose his nerve on the final few meters. He wants a shower, wants to get the sand out of all the nooks and crannies of his body, wants a bed that doesn’t squeak with every movement. Instead, he waits and watches the cases go ‘round.

John spots his bag suddenly and he feels more relief than he should. He takes a quick step forward, but the old man in front of him is struggling to lift the large suitcase of the conveyor and by the time John has managed to help him, his bag has long passed.

When he’s finally able to grab it the second time around, John is already very annoyed. isn’t he supposed to have nerves of steel? He certainly isn’t this nervous when he has to stitch up his comrades. 

The door opens and John steps into the hall beyond, his eyes scanning the crowd for his sister’s blond curls and wicked smile. She promised she would be there to pick him up, John almost expects some stupid sign. Instead, he can’t see her anywhere, John feels disappointment bloom in his chest.

He should have known. He should have known that Harry wouldn’t change a bit, that she would still be a chaotic mess. Any other person could manage a pick-up that had been planned for over two weeks, he had even reminded her of it in every single phone conversation they had had over the past few days. This was his first bloody leave, he was here for her wedding, and she…

John’s bag falls onto the floor with a dull thump, he feels his heart jump into his throat, beating fast and hard. Just next to the sliding doors at the exit, towers the tall, dark, figure of Sherlock Holmes. And god, he thought he would never see that man again.

They had ended it mutually.

John hadn’t wanted him to wait. Not when it might be years until he could come back for good.

The fact that he is still there, waiting, makes John’s hands shake with a joy that is almost unbearable, he doesn’t know how he ends up in front of him, how he passes all the people around him, but then Sherlock’s arms close around him and John is home. He’s home, surrounded by the smell of wool and mint and skin, home, pressed against the strong body of the man he thought about every day since he stepped on the plane over a year ago. John holds him, breathes him in, and he doesn’t care about the looks people give them, or the fact that his bag is lying somewhere in the middle of the floor.

“Did the sun shrink you even more?” Is the first thing Sherlock says, and John wants to nudge him in the ribs and kiss that lovely mouth swollen at the same time.

“No,” He chuckles, god, he would have started crying if Sherlock chose to say anything soppy. “I’m just as broad as I am tall after all the training.”

Sherlock’s quiet laughter is vibrating against John, and he has to close his eyes, pull him just a bit tighter. “Tall is a very broad statement.” Sherlock mumbles, John is so very fond of this man.

Lifting his head, John grins up at him. “You’re one to talk, you lanky git.” He retorts, then pulls him down into a kiss.

And it doesn’t matter how they made love one final time in John’s narrow bed, that they said goodbye with tears in their eyes, that John asked Sherlock not to come to the airport with him. It doesn’t matter, because John is holding his beautiful face in his hands, and those cupid bow lips are pressed against John’s thinner ones, warm and soft.

And John is almost dizzy with emotions. There is a small corner of his brain that regrets ever having said the words ‘long distance relationships don’t work, Sher. And I don’t want to be the reason you can’t move on’, regrets the skype calls they could have had, the letters they could have written. It is pushed back by the intense relief that he is getting a second chance with this man who turned John’s world upside down with his genius brain, ridiculous ideas and big heart.

They will have to discuss a few things. John wants to do one more tour, at least. He loves his job with a passion. And he needs Sherlock to fully support him in that, else they are doomed to fail, but they have time. For now John allows himself to give in to what he needs, and that is being as close to Sherlock Holmes as it is possible without being indecent in public.

The kiss could have lasted five hours and it would have been too short. John needs it more than he needs air, somewhere in the middle of it he started crying, silent tears running down his cheeks. His knees are weak, Sherlock having to hold most of his weight up, he is tired to the bone and so endlessly happy he can barely process it.

“Let’s go home.” Sherlock whispers, and his mouth rests against John’s forehead. His thumb brushes over John’s cheeks, wiping the tears away, then wiping at the corners of his own eyes.

John nods, somehow manages to get his bag and follow Sherlock to Harry’s small, blue car, fingers tightly intertwined.

John’s bag is slumped carelessly into the corner next to the door, long forgotten.

John only has eyes for Sherlock, and for a moment they fix on the dark lashes, fluttering before they reveal pale eyes. He looks so young, cheeks flushed pink, curls a disarray from where John has combed his fingers through them.

He had expected something rough and quick, for them to achieve orgasms within minutes after the hotel room door closed. But during their shared dinner with Harry and Clara, want simmered down into just wanting to hold Sherlock and be close to him. For months now, he tried to push that love away, to focus on his job. Deep inside him he had known Sherlock would never just be an ex, there was too much shared love between them, even as more of a year apart had surely changed them.

Their eyes meet, and John wonders if Sherlock can see all the fondness John has for him, if his eyes translate what he feels. He doesn’t know if he wants to be that open and vulnerable. Then, there is a small tug at the corner of Sherlock’s mouth, one of the smiles only John gets to see.

“God, you are beautiful.” John states, and the red on Sherlock’s cheeks deepens. He leans forward, his hands gripping at John’s upper arms, the shift in position does not only allow them to share a kiss, but for John to move up into him. They move together, slow, and nothing can come between them, not even fourteen months in the Afghan dessert.

“You’re an idiot.” Sherlock says, as they come up to breathe, and John lets his hand travel to a muscular thigh to swat at it.

“That’s not very romantic.” John counters, and it’s not the cleverest thing he could say, but then he has the excuse of having Sherlock Holmes in his lap, making love to him.

For a while, neither of them says a word, as their increasing movement takes all their attention. All it takes for John, is that beautiful face freezing into a grimace as his partner reaches orgasm to go over the edge.

He holds him, after, wraps his arms around him and preppers his face with kisses.

“You’re an idiot,” Sherlock says again, catching up to the train of his thoughts again. He pulls back enough to look down at John. “For thinking that I won’t wait for you. Or thinking that I would find someone else.”

“I’m sorry, darling,” John reaches up to cup his face, pulling him down into another kiss. “I’m an idiot.”

**Author's Note:**

> I had a bit of a struggle writing lately. I hope this is still okay :)


End file.
